


Of Assassins and Traitors

by CharbroilLaFlamme



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Assassination, Blood and Injury, Gen, Mentions of Blood, POV First Person, Undying loyalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharbroilLaFlamme/pseuds/CharbroilLaFlamme
Summary: Cicero comes to terms with whatever fate has in store for him.





	Of Assassins and Traitors

**Author's Note:**

> More of that there Cicero stuff, enjoy!  
> Also, good morning!

Poor Cicero was bleeding. Poor Cicero was possibly dying, but still, he smiled, dragging bloody red fingers along the rough brick walls.

The dog had failed to kill me. I thought and thought about it all. And realised, with blanching horror, that they would send the _Listener_ after me.

Cicero knew this was his final stand, knew it was almost over.

One of us had to _die_.

The Keeper and Listener, facing down. Eye to eye, head to head, knife to knife...

Keeper and Listener. All or nothing. _Kill_ or be _killed_.

Cicero knew his place. Keeper. An honour above all but the Listener. Surely the Listener could benefit from a mutual partnership.

But what if they did not? What if they flayed Cicero down to the bone? What if they skinned Cicero and offered his hide to the pretender, Astrid?

Cicero would prefer not to die, but if that’s what it took, then fine.

I was _ready_ to die. 

I pulled the bar down on the door and stumbled away to the other end of the room, sitting down, curling up, bleeding more. I considered briefly killing myself so as to not give the Listener the satisfaction, should they choose the heretics over traditional values.

But Cicero also realised that he still had work to do. For Mother.

He had to live.

But perhaps he also had to die.

_Oh, bother._

He breathed shakily into the cold. The lonely, lonely, blustery _cold_.

Then Cicero _wept_.

He was happy to serve Mother, and pledge himself to the Void.

But he wanted to live and serve. He had gone so long without a Listener, and he had finally found them.

At long last. Fifteen years. Waiting and waiting. Doting on Mother. Searching and searching. Hunting and stalking.

I had succeeded in pleasing Mother. Well, _finding_ someone who pleased her.

Though it hurt, seeing another hear her voice. Seeing someone else blessed. Cicero had long since settled in with this fate of his, come to the most saddening of terms... I would _never_ be Listener.

 _Never_ hear our Matron’s voice.

 _Never_ be in this most coveted place of honour.

But he was Keeper. And that in itself was important.

And he would stay Keeper till the bloody, deadly end.

And if that took the Listener’s life, so be it.

He heard the wind pick up. The Black Door had opened.

Cicero was _ready_.


End file.
